


Plastic Love

by ImDoney



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Beaches, Canon Rewrite, Devotion, First Dates, Kazuhira POV, M/M, Making Out, POV Second Person, Peace Walker era, Sunsets, of the kaz beach date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 08:04:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12338715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImDoney/pseuds/ImDoney
Summary: Your stomach churns the last meal you ate, and although the scene around you is a picture of bliss, you can't help but be nervous.Waiting for Big Boss always made you nervous.





	Plastic Love

In all your dates before, you’ve never been nervous, head cool and clear until you’ve had a few drinks. Now, even though the whole beach is colored orange and the sky is dotted with pink clouds, your stomach flips and the grains of sand pressing into your calves make you wanna tear the skin off. Whenever Snake is away, and you’re left waiting and waiting, you’re _nervous_ . Sometimes it sits on the backburner, only manifesting in more coffee and less paperwork done; other times, _more times_ , it leaves you sitting at the radio, always waiting for Snake to call and say he’s okay. This is worse.

 

Maybe all those other dates were inconsequential, just for sex, so that’s why this makes you feel like you’ve somehow passed your limit on caffeine.  Maybe it’s because he matters to you, and the pit twisting in your gut is the idea that you’re gonna fuck this up and this _technically_ isn’t a date (to him, anyway). It’s not something you want to— it’s not something you _should_ be thinking about, what with the sunset and all. A nervous smile tugs itself onto your lips, and your hands itch at your sides to claw into your thighs, so you grab the nearest thing— a seashell— and chuck it into the sea. The waves lap up your offering gratefully, soaking the entirety of your sandals, all the way up to the bottom of your boardshorts.

 

Salty sea air mixes with the scent of cologne, and sand crunches behind you. For a moment, you aren’t sure if it’s Snake. You expected him to sneak up on you and put you in a choke hold or something, and him owning cologne is new. Oh well— you don’t want to keep him waiting any longer than he’s made you.

 

“You made it.” You turn around, and the smile dies on your lips. He’s dressed in a tux, which makes laughter bubble at the edges of your smile until it overspills and you’re chuckling into your hand. Who wears a tuxedo to a beach? _Seriously_. “Hope you enjoy sand in your clothes, dressed like that.” You aren’t sure where he got that, either, but you hope it’s nothing expensive.

 

Snake does a little shrug thing (I’ve had worse, you can hear him saying, but he never does) before he takes a seat next to you, the sand jumping and falling back to the beach when he does. You hadn’t noticed when things got _easy,_ instinctual, but now your lingering smile fades away and you can’t bare his gaze, which hadn’t been scrutinizing until this moment. Big Boss shouldn’t make you feel this way, too nervous even to ask _how are you._ He shouldn’t make you want to ask him to watch the sunset, either, yet here you are. Just the two of you.

 

That’s right, the sunset. The whole excuse for this date. “What do you think of the sunset?” You keep your head straight and lean back on your hands, trying to look casual while still getting a view of Snake’s reactions. Hopefully, he falls for it.  

 

Snake holds his chin and gazes at the scene before him. The sun dips lower by the second, the sky growing pinker and pinker. A seagull caws above and a river hawk dips into the sea. After catching a fish, it flies to a jutted out rock and begins to eat. “It's a sunset,” says Snake.

 

Ah. Well, you aren’t sure what you were really expecting. Maybe he can’t see the beauty in the fleeting colors, in the sea and the sand. Your heart aches with disappointment. You shouldn’t be. He came out here, just for you, after all, right?

 

But maybe he came out here expecting to see a beautiful sunset and now hates you for—

 

“I guess you're right,” you say. Both of you are here together, on a beautiful beach with a beautiful sunset on a _date_ — you don’t have any right to be disappointed when he’s the one taking time out of his day. He doesn’t need to see what you see, anyway, he doesn’t have to love things like this. Your face flames red hot— you’re ashamed, you realize, which only makes your face burn hotter. You wasted his time, you shouldn’t have asked him at all. Or maybe— _maybe_ , he’s _wrong._ Is this really just a sunset when Snake could go out on a mission and never come back again? Desperate for something to do, you tear off your sandals and hurl them across the beach, wishing that you hadn’t asked him at all. The _thwack_ of them hitting the sand is a pure catharsis.

 

Snake whips his head around at the whack of them against the sand, before looking at you with a raised eyebrow. Your eyes sting behind your sunglasses— thank god he couldn’t see them. You've already embarrassed yourself enough. He could really make you feel stupid, huh.

 

“But thanks. For inviting me out.” Snake turns back to the sunset, a small smile resting on his face like this is all amusing to him. It shouldn’t make you happy— _you’re sad and angry, damn it!_ — yet it does, heart twisting and turning in your chest.

 

“Anytime,” you choke out. You clear your throat. “Just thought maybe you would like to see it.” Your date would be over almost as soon as it began— you can't wait to sleep and cry into your pillow or drink enough caffeine for all of the people on base and drown yourself in work. This was destined to be a disaster.

 

“That's all?”

 

“Huh?”

 

Snake’s grinning wider now. The waves brushing against your toes, cold and refreshing, hit you like a slap in the face. _Of course_ ! You— you forgot he knows this is a date. _Jesus_. He doesn’t just make you feel stupid, you must really be stupid. It was right in front of you the whole time! Who wears a tux, if not to a date?

 

_Snake...knows this is a date._

 

Before you can stop yourself, you say, “That's all.” Flirting is as easy as breathing— maybe not with Snake, but it’s only instinct. You can do this. “Expecting something else?” See how easy that was? This is just like the others! Your date with the caffeine crash is altogether less appetizing now.

 

Snake huffs a laugh. “What do you think, Kaz?”

 

You hate when he pulls stuff like this— putting the question back on _you._ It always makes the situation slip out of your grasp, like water; he’d always be in control of everything. Now, well...away from money and weapons and war, it almost feels like _power._ You’re the one deciding how this conversation goes. His cologne grows stronger— with a flush, you realize that you’re much closer to him than you were when this conversation started. _It’s only a habit._

 

If he was anyone else, drawing it out would be enticing. Now, the longer you play the game, the more likely it is that you’ll fuck something up. “Hmm… Dressed in that, there's no way you wouldn't be. Anyways, your turn. I'm right, aren't I?”

 

Snake hums, a low note resonating from his throat. If you pressed your hand on his throat, you would feel it vibrate. You want to— you also want to suck purple marks onto his pretty neck. He clears his throat, and he’s wearing a smug smile. _Oh._ Is it possible for him to feel your gaze burning a hole through his neck?

 

“We both know what this is, Kaz.”

 

You both _know_ what this is, but the word ‘date’ hasn't been spoken. You want to draw the word out of him. “I'd like to hear you say it, Snake.”

 

The air stiffens around you, and Snake doesn't move to say anything. His expression doesn’t change at all. Yep, you fucked it up. Your heart tries to claw itself out of your chest and into your throat. Maybe he'll get up and leave, without saying another word, and he’ll never mention it, and everything could go back to _before._

 

“A date, Kaz. It's a date.”

 

Oh.

 

“Right,” you say, and no more words are coming to your mind, so you repeat, “right.” You didn't _expect_ him to say it. Suddenly, everything seems more real. Snake, your boss, your partner, your friend, dressed up _for you_ to go to the beach to watch the sunset _with you_ . His stare bores into you, _your lips_. Oh. Your hand touches your wide smile, and you laugh, nervously.

 

“So, _Kaz_.” He’s smirking— even though the sunset should be at it it’s prettiest, you can’t look anywhere else. “What do you usually do on dates?”

  


“You know what I do.” You take a deep breath through your nose, but exhale too sharply. He's only pushing you, seeing if you'll break and snap against his wrist like an elastic. He _always_ brings _that_ up. Why can't he understand it's just fun?

 

Snake pauses, his lone eye widening before he snorts. “Just looking for ideas.”

 

_He knows full well._ Words fail you again, you’re too busy thinking about fucking Snake, or Snake fucking you. Snake’s lips look dry and cracked, but the wave of want that flows through you makes you not care. Would it be weird to kiss him? He’s your superior— actually, this is a date, and that doesn’t matter anymore. Snake isn't the type to care about that, anyway, and if he wants it as much as _you_ , then—

 

You lean in sharply and hold Snake’s head in place by his chin. Your grip turns his skin white, but like hell you’re letting him go (it’s not like he couldn’t slam you to the ground like a ragdoll, anyway, and _holy shit, that idea is all too hot)_ . He places a hand in your hair, the other shifting to your waist ( _possessive)_ and yeah, you _need_ this. You hope it's the best damn kiss he's ever had; when his tongue darts across your lower lip and you gasped, you’re thinking _it’s mine._ Your other hand fists itself into his tux as he tugs you into his lap. _This is the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me,_ you think, one thought of clarity before the feeling of Snake’s beard, his cologne, and his muscles underneath his tux overwhelm you and all you can focus on is him.

 

When you pull back, gasping for breath, he smiles at you. Snake’s hot because he’s all grizzled and rough edges until he starts acting soft and it only makes him hotter. On his lap, you aren’t scared to think that you’d do anything to see him happy.

 

“How was that?” you ask in between pants. Maybe this is the hardest you’ve ever been in your life— you want to fuck him so badly it hurts.

 

“Pretty good. We’ll have to do it again sometime.”

 

That was a _promise._ “Yeah. Yeah. We’ll have to go all the way—” you swallow “--I would but now...the sand.” Your hand twitches to take off Snake’s clothing.  You peel your hands off and fist them into your shorts. “I’m never going on a damn beach date again.” _Unless it’s with you, and only if it ends in a bed._

 

“Well, let’s get going, then. I’d hate to keep you waiting.”

 

You beam at him as you clamor to your feet, sparing one last glance at the sunset before looking back to him.

**Author's Note:**

> Wooh, I don't really have anything to say other than I edited this super quick so I could get it out for my 1 year anniversary of publishing fic! I love writing and this site too much hahah
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! I haven't played Peace Walker yet, so I hope BB and Kaz are in character. Writing this happy fic makes MGSV hurt so much more ;=;
> 
> Title is from the song "Plastic Love" by Mariya Takeuchi. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MIcjawG4_D4


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